


Defense

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Wrestle AU: Brawlin' Reigns and Scream Ambrose, a most terrible AU idea I had, ambreigns - Freeform, cameos cameos everywhere, clumsily hinted at Sami/Owens, still wrestling but more fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Roman and Dean are roommates, carefully working around each other. But when Dean gets in over his head, there's only one person he can think to contact. [Alternate Universe]
Enjoy!





	

Roman was used to being the one who protected. He protected because he was bigger and stronger than most of the shit that normal people dealt with. He protected because he felt _right_ when he did. 

 

Roman Reigns protected because that's what he fucking did and that's fucking that.

 

So when Dean sent him a text that just said “help” one night, Roman damn near turned himself inside out in his haste to get to his friend. His roommate. Dean had gone out with Seth and Finn, a breezy “ _Goin' drinking after my fight, don't wait up!_ ” the only thing Roman heard before the door clicked shut. 

 

Living with Dean there was never a dull moment, and tonight was no exception. But, Roman supposed, it was kind of expected when your roommate is a brawler. “ _I punch shit, I win and they pay me._ ” was how Dean had explained it when Roman asked, offering the black-haired man a front-row seat at his next match. “ _You'll just have to fight the guy who_ _**thought** _ _ that was his seat, y'know? _ ”

 

Reigns had declined with a laugh and Dean never suggested it again, seeming to respect Roman's boundaries to a  _ ridiculous _ level. They had been friends ever since Dean had offered Roman a place to live, but something a little less definable had sprung up between the two men when Roman had gone out of his way to pick up some re-freezable ice packs at the local drug store. 

 

Dean had been digging through the plastic bags, looking for the M&Ms he'd requested. “ _What's these for?_ ” he had asked, turning the packs over in his hands.

 

Roman quickly took them from him, tucking them safely into the freezer before Ambrose got a bright idea like trying to  _ bite _ them or something. “ _ For your fights, Ambrose. I'm sure your buddies are getting tired of buying a five pound bag of frozen water every time you swell up _ .”

 

“ _Oh._ ” Dean went quiet for a few minutes, chewed his M&Ms. “ _Thanks man. Next fight I win, I'll give you a chunk. Like a finders fee._ ” he had promised, with a grin that made Roman feel far more hopeful than he should have.

 

Roman huffed at himself, tapping Dean's contact icon in his phone as he locked the door behind him. It's wasn't necessarily  _ cold _ out but it sure as shit wasn't warm. Not for the first time Reigns bemoaned leaving Florida behind.

 

“ _-llo?_ ” Ambrose sounded fucking _ragged_ , and the noise set something off in Roman's chest.

 

“Where are you?” Reigns gritted out, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down.

 

“ _ Reigns'm' in trouble. _ ” Dean blubbered, fucking  _ bleated _ it like he was a small child. “ _ M' at th' ring-- _ ”

 

Dean didn't cry as far as Roman knew. Fuck pain, fuck sad,  _ nothing _ . But this...he sounded like he was barely holding back tears. That protective  _ thing _ in Roman's chest damn near closed his throat. “Stay where you are, Ambrose. Stay on the phone. Where are Seth and Finn?” he managed to get out, heading down the street at a brisk jog. 

 

“ _ Lef' w' girls. I dun' li' girls though _ .” Ambrose was either drunk or very,  _ very _ hurt. “ _ Cuppla' guys, I whipped th' fuck outta' one las' week. _ ” A shaky inhale, and there's a whine to it that sets Roman's teeth on edge. “ _ M' th' one bleedin' now. 'll raw. Help. _ ”

 

“Hang on Dean, stick with me, I'm almost there.” Roman practically begged, thankful this one time for the closeness of the warehouse Dean usually fought in. The doors weren't locked and he slipped in, damn quiet for someone of his size.

 

A scrabbling noise from across where the fighters square was in the pitch black set him on high alert. “Dean?” he hissed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

 

“R-Reigns-” came Dean's voice weakly, the scuffling sound getting louder.

 

Roman had no idea where the terrified feeling in his chest came from, but he told it to  _ fuck right off _ as he quickly felt his way towards Dean's probable location. “Hang in there Ambrose, I'm coming.” Roman damn near tripped over Dean's body, curled up on the floor. “Jesus.”

 

“Y'r her' f'r me...didn' thin' y' would.” Dean rasped, fingers suddenly gripping the hole-riddled jeans that Reigns had thrown on.

 

Roman knelt, carefully running his hand over Dean to figure out which end was up. Ambrose flinched back, then relaxed. He full-on _nuzzled_ Reigns' hand when it brushed against his face.

 

The contact seemed to tone down whatever the fuck that was in Roman's chest, the squeezing, panicky feeling. Roman sighed in relief. “Can you stand, Dean? I've got to get you home.”

 

“Jus'...hel' m' up. M' legs r' fucked.” Dean's arm latched onto Roman's neck and he held on, Reigns standing and pulling Dean up with him.

 

“Up you go. What happened to your legs?”

 

“Knife. M' thighs, bo' of 'em.” Ambrose said shortly. “Wrecked m' jeans.”

 

“Fuck.” Roman grimaced. “Talk about some sore losers. Don't worry. I'll get you home and patched up.”

 

“Dunno' h' long it'll be f'r healtime.” Ambrose mumbled against his side as they left the warehouse and started the slow walk up the street to their apartment complex. “M' sorr' Reigns, norm'lly I c'n han'le this m'sel'.”

 

“Don't apologize. It ain't your fault.” Roman replied quietly, shifting more of Dean's weight onto him. He debated just flat-out carrying him but he was pretty sure Ambrose would balk at the idea.

 

“C'n I have some wat'r when we ge' home?”

 

Roman knew he should find it pitiful that Dean was asking for water. Dean was a grown man. Instead there was just that weird, warm feeling his his chest. “Of course man. Whatever you need.”

 

“You're th' bes'.” Even Dean's _smile_ looked battered, his lips chapped and bloody.

 

Roman wasn't sure that he wanted to know the details of what had happened. _Baby steps, Reigns. Get him home safe._

 

They got to the complex without incident, Roman mostly carrying Dean up the three flights of stairs to get to their apartment. By the time they reached the landing Dean was white as a sheet, his free hand pressed to the inside of his thigh.

 

“Just another second and then you can sit. You're a fuckin' trooper Dean.” Roman assured him, digging his keys out of his pocket and hastily unlocking the door. “I'll get you some water, how's that sound?”

 

“M'n.” was all Dean could manage, the bare-bones reply apparently trying to rip a hole in Roman's chest.

 

_Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?_ Roman scolded himself.  _Stop getting all bleeding heart about the guy, Reigns!_

 

He carefully deposited Dean on the couch and then ran to the kitchen for the coveted glass of water. Dean gulped it down with astonishing speed. “ _Fuck_ that's better. Throat was so fuckin' dry.” he gasped, coughing a little bit. “I'm gonna' need a wet rag or something Reigns. My legs are fuckin' coated.”

 

“Do we have...?” Roman trailed off, trying to think.

 

“Just grab a towel from my room. Ones in the pile on the right are clean.”

 

Roman had never helped Dean patch up after a fight. Quite a few nights Dean had come home bloodied for his efforts. Roman usually just camped out in the bathroom doorway, grinning at Dean while Finn fussed over him. Dean would of course growl and posture and act like shit didn't hurt as Roman jibed at him to keep his mind off whatever splinters Finn was digging out of his ass  _this_ time. 

 

Dean was painfully trying to get his pants off when Roman returned, the black-haired man plopping the almost-soaking towel onto his head. “Want me to use scissors? I can pop the seams.” Roman offered.

 

Dean nodded ruefully. “They're fuckin' ruined anyhow.” he grimaced. “Might as well.” Dean raised his head to look up at Roman, grinning abruptly. “Bet this ain't the way you figured you'd get me outta' my pants, huh Reigns?”

 

“Jesus Christ Dean.” Roman knocked his fist against the back of Dean's shoulder and went to fetch the scissors.

 

Between the two of them they managed to peel the bloodied jeans down Dean's thighs, having to stop a few times as Dean's voice cracked with a plea of “ _wait!_ ” Roman would press his forehead into Dean's, breathing slow and steady until the other man calmed down enough for them to keep going.

 

Roman was fit to _murder_. The knife work was shit, intentionally rakish. Like whoever had done it was hell-bent on causing Dean misery for days. “Dean.” Roman finally said, “What fucking happened?”

 

“I make a lotta' enemies Reigns. Maybe if I looked more like you they wouldn't try to fuck with me outside the square, but...” Dean trailed off, hissing in pain as he hiked up his boxers and pressed the wet towel to the inside of his leg.

 

“You're not fucking _small_ Ambrose, you're taller than me by at least an inch or two.” Roman pointed out, uncomfortably aware of the fact that yeah, there was something very fucked up going on here.

 

“I ain't _broad_ like you Reigns. You're built like a brick fuckin' wall. I'm built like a-a tapered brick fuckin' wall.” Dean said wryly, “lookit' this waistline. Unreal, un-fuckin'-real--”

 

“Ambrose who did this?” Roman asked, interrupting his friend's rambling about his overly-athletic form.

 

Dean froze, the towel almost landing on the floor when his grip slackened. “N-nobody, don't worry about it.” he stammered after a minute, fumbling with the damp cloth.

 

“The cuts. Those are fucking deliberate and I want to know who the fuck did this and why the fuck they did.” Roman's teeth ground together for a moment before he stopped himself.

 

“Look Ro it doesn't matter okay? Drop it. Please.” Dean said quietly. The towel twisted back and forth in his hands.

 

“It _does_ matter, dammit!” Roman burst out, grabbing Dean's shoulders. “Who the fuck has _Dean_ fucking _Ambrose's_ number? And since fucking _when?_ ”

 

“Y-you know I don't win _every_ fight I go into--” Dean began, seeming startled by Roman's explosion.

 

Roman grunted in frustration. “Fucking _obviously_ Dean but I've never seen you with something like this. What happened? Just...explain it to me.”

 

“I already told you!” Dean got to his feet with an irritated look on his face. “I make enemies, okay Reigns? It comes with the turf, a working fucking hazard.” He jabbed a finger into Roman's chest, looking like he was about to snap. “Y'know what I did last week, Reigns? Huh? I beat a guy into a bloody fucking _pulp!_ He might as well be a fucking _vegetable!_ Because of _me!_ ” Ambrose covered his face with his hands, breathing hard.

 

Roman fought the urge to take a step back, more than shocked. He had no idea how far Dean's fights went, only that they were difficult and bloody. “Dean I...”

 

“No, _listen!_ I went out there tonight to win a prize match and give the money to the guy's girl and kids. She knew the risks, but he had fucking _kids_ Ro. A fucking. Family.” Ambrose was crying now, the sight absolutely bizarre to Reigns. “I beat my guys and had Mr. Regal sign the check over to the girlfriend. We're good for rent and food and stuff, I made sure we didn't need it.”

 

“I would have been able to cover even if we did need it. You know that.” Roman mumbled. “My dad--”

 

“I _know_ you have bad blood with your pops over the whole 'gay' thing, Reigns. Like I'm gonna' ask you to deal with some shit family dinner where your fuckstick father can poke and prod you, just so I don't have to get bludgeoned. Nah, I'm good. I've got enough fucking blood on my hands.” Dean hiccuped, angrily scrubbing at his bruised face. “AJ had friends, is all. And they thought I didn't have the right to help his girl, after what I did to him. I agree with 'em. I don't have the right. But it was the only thing I could do.”

 

“So they jumped you?” Roman asked cautiously.

 

“They whipped my ass from here to California, Reigns. I got bounced off so many fucking things.” Dean groaned, sitting back down. “I didn't fight back. Figured I deserved it. That just pissed them off more though.” He spread his legs with some difficulty. “They did this after they knocked me out. At least they didn't lop off my junk. Small favors, huh?” Dean gasped out a raw chuckle.

 

Roman's chest tightened again at the clear view of the knife work and a growl built in his throat. “That's absolute shit Ambrose. Where were fucking Rollins and Balor?”

 

“Girls man, fucking chicks.” Dean huffed, “or maybe each other. I didn't actually ask, Seth just said 'chicks' and dragged Finn off. For all I know they were making out in...hey, get your mind out of the gutter you creep! Only _I_ get to think about my friends like that!” he protested with a shadow of his old smile, whacking Roman on the shoulder.

 

“That's...shit Dean, if they're going to be busy you need to _tell_ someone. It's kind of obvious you can't go wandering around by yourself. You'll just get fucked up again.” Roman said, tying his hair back out of his face with an elastic as he walked back around the couch. “I'm gonna' get your antiseptic cream. Be back in a second.”

 

Once he was in the bathroom Roman closed the door and leaned against the sink for a minute, his stomach doing somersaults. He shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

 

_What the fuck are you **doing** , Reigns? Now isn't the time to be offering your protective services!_ he scolded himself, rummaging through the first aid kit under the sink.  _And now is **definitely** not the time to be getting fucking blushy around the guy, come on! Man the fuck up!_

 

When he returned Ambrose appeared deep in thought, right hand tapping out a nervous rhythm on his collarbone. Roman cleared his throat and Dean started, then pasted that weak smile back on his face. “Hey man. I can take it from here.” the light-haired man protested when Roman knelt between his legs.

 

Roman shushed him, twisting open the tube and smearing some of the gel on his fingers before carefully smoothing it over one of the cuts. Dean hissed in pain, hands digging into Roman's shoulders hard enough to make the bulkier man wince. “Sh-shit, sorry Ro.”

 

“It's alright. One side down, one to go, and then you can sleep.” Roman encouraged, patting Dean's knee and then coating the other cut. Ambrose bit down on his own fist.

 

…

 

Roman found himself sitting in a cheap folding chair the next week that Dean fought, a cup of quickly-warming beer in his hand and a frown on his face. Dean hadn't exactly _asked_ him to come, just quietly mentioned one night that both Rollins and Balor were going to be busy during his fights this week.

 

Which is why Roman was sprawled in the chair, doing his best to imitate the ne'er do well attitude everyone else in the building seemed to have. He knew his size would aid him in this, never mind the mean-looking familial tattoo that wound around his arm. Dean had told him to wear “ _something casual, yet dangerous_ ”. Roman had snorted with laughter at the time because really, how dangerous could jeans and a T-shirt be?

 

Apparently if Dean was wearing them, _very_ dangerous.

 

Ambrose had more than one match that night. Three, actually. Roman found his heart constantly in his throat, absently passing his beer off to a random guy that sat next to him. He leaned forward in his seat with his fists clenched as Dean's opponent wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him to the ground.

 

“First time watching a match?” the guy beside him asked, chuckling and extending a hand when Roman jumped.

 

“No, I-I uh--”

 

“Hey, we all gotta' start somewhere, right?” the man smiled at him. “Sami Zayn. The big one is Kevin. He's mine.”

 

“Um. Roman Reigns.” Roman said awkwardly, wishing he could tack on a possessive statement at the end of his introduction as he shook Sami's hand. “This isn't exactly my scene.” he admitted.

 

Sami laughed again, slapping him on the back. “I figured! Who you here for? Ambrose, yeah?”

 

“I'm his roommate. He...there was some trouble a few weeks back.”

 

Zayn's face grew serious. “I know, we all heard. Gallows and Anderson don't exactly come off as shining examples of society. Not like the rest of us.” The last bit was said with an elbow nudge to Roman's ribs and a wink.

 

Roman flushed, pretty sure that in the past five minutes this guy had touched him more than anyone else had in the past _year_. He chanced a look at the ring, relieved to see that Dean had broken free of his opponent's grip. Ambrose was covered in scrapes from the unforgiving plywood that lined the floor, the guy he was facing not looking much better.

 

“You ever thought about doing this stuff? You're a pretty decent sized guy.”

 

Roman was _almost_ positive that Sami was actually curious and not flirting. “Not...really? I mean, I'm decent enough at quick fights and stuff like that, but some of the shit these guys do...” Reigns grimaced, shrugging. “Dean's come home busted up a lot.”

 

“Well think about it man. During the intermission we usually have a couple guys from the crowd in there. Get out some of that aggro. You ought to toss your hat into the ring.” Zayn seemed sincere enough. Roman decided he liked Sami.

 

…

 

“Saw you talkin' with Zayn.” Ambrose grunted on their walk back to the apartment.

 

Roman raised an eyebrow. “How do you focus on anything besides what you're doing? A lot of that stuff you did tonight seemed really tough.”

 

“I've been _doing_ this for a while, man.” Dean seemed to be in a total funk, his taped hands shoved into his pockets. He'd lost his last match of the evening, stormed out of the square covered in blood and filth and grabbed Roman's arm yelling, “ _we're leaving!_ ” “What did Zayn say to you?”

 

“Oh, he kind of just filled me in on how the matches work, stuff like that. He said the big one was his. I guess that's...Kevin? So he's like his manager or something?” Roman scratched his head. “His backup, like I am for you? He's kind of small to be backup though.”

 

“ _Don't_ underestimate Zayn.” Dean growled, his sulky tone making Reigns suspicious.

 

“Hey, did I do something wrong? You seem real pissed off.” he commented as Dean unlocked the door to their apartment.

 

“Nah, man. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fuckin' bitch. Just tired and sore, y'know?” Ambrose shrugged. “I'll drop it. It's no biggie, okay?”

 

“Uh...alright. Do you need help w--”

 

“Nope.” Dean cut Roman off before he could finish offering to assist with wound detail, going and locking himself in the bathroom.

 

Roman sighed unhappily. _Something_ had Dean all fucked up, and he was willing to bet it wasn't losing his last match.

 

…

 

Rollins and Balor were absent the week after as well, apparently doing a thing called Cyberduels or Cyberbattles...Cyber something. Dean had seemed kind of embarrassed when he mentioned it, face going red afterwards.

 

Roman had been thinking on Sami's words a lot more than he cared to admit, feeling jittery in his folding chair as he watched Dean swing and tear through his opponents. There had been no sign of those Gallows and Anderson guys. Zayn tumbled into the seat next to Reigns halfway through Dean's second match, the large guy from the other night (Kevin?) settling down on the floor with his back propped against Sami's legs.

 

Roman felt his face flush. _**That's**_ _what he meant when he said he was his?! I thought he was his manager or something!_

 

Sami wrapped an arm around Roman's shoulders, hauling him in closer so he could hear him. “How you liking the matches so far, Reigns? Pretty badass, huh?” His other hand rubbed through Kevin's close-cropped hair. Roman had a fleeting thought about him doing that to Ambrose, or vice versa.

 

_Material for never, I guess_.

 

“Money's on Ambrose this go-around. Last match is going to be tough though.” Kevin pointed at Ambrose, hollering something that made Roman bristle. Sami whacked Kevin's shoulder. “C'mon Kev, not while his dude is here. Jesus. Have some class.” he scolded, shooting Roman an apologetic look. “He's very competitive.”

 

_His dude?_

 

Reigns got to his feet. “Where do I sign up for the free period...thing?”

 

…

 

_This may not be my best idea._ Roman mused as he sat quietly in his corner and waited for his opponent of the night. Numerous catcalls had followed him to the square, men and women alike screaming for him to take his shirt off. Dean may have been the loudest of the crowd, hollering “ _I'll suck your dick man!_ ” and making everyone around him laugh. 

 

Reigns just thanked God that he'd had enough sense to grab a hair elastic before he left the house, having watched Dean get dragged around too many times to be comfortable with having his hair loose.

 

Zayn climbed into the square, grinning widely at Roman as he whipped the cabbie hat off his head and raised his fists. “Let's go!”

 

_Oh Jesus, here's hoping I'm not about to make a complete ass of myself_ , Roman panicked, outwardly cool as he opened his arms and gestured to Zayn. 

 

_When you're the defense, they come to you_ .

 

Sami laughed, dancing around Roman  _just_ out of reach. “C'mon Reigns, show me what you've got! This isn't anything impressive. Not bad for a virgin, though!” he teased, easily ducking Roman's fist and landing a kick that knocked Reigns back a step. 

 

Roman grunted in surprise. Sami didn't look like much, but his speed gave him strength. It would be a pretty poor display for him to lose his first  _legitimate_ fight. “Is it a little breezy in here today, Zayn, or was that  _actually_ your best?” he retorted, barely able to keep from laughing when he heard Dean yell “ _oh shit Kevin, he's got your hubby pegged!_ ” and the responding shout of “ _shut the fuck up Ambrose!_ ”

 

Sami shrugged, blushing cutely under his red beard. “Should have warmed up. I'm not gonna' go easy on you from here on though!” he warned.

 

Roman found the fight surprisingly enjoyable, slipping into a headspace he'd abandoned after football hadn't panned out. Always on the defensive, always searching for an opening. And yeah, he'd ended up stripping off his shirt, but that was because he was sweating. Definitely not because he knew Dean was watching wide-eyed.

 

_When you're the wall, they'll break around you_ .  _You are the calm in the storm._

 

It filled Roman with a weird joy to be back in an athletic situation, regardless of how half-assed it was. After he'd come out, the football practice attendance had dwindled to nothing, team members 'forgetting' or Reigns mysteriously ending up alone in his gear  _(oh, the **other** football field!_ ). Enduring the teasing of his family and 'friends', never mind his teammates, had broken his spirit. It had just been easier to move away, settle down in a different state and tell himself that this was his new life, so he should probably get used to being alone for being who he was.

 

That had all changed the day when Roman met Dean. Roman hadn't exactly had the greatest escape plan aside from already having a job lined up, and he  _may_ have been sleeping in his car, may have been dealing with thoughts about not being around much longer before Ambrose came along. Dean had taken one look at his tired face, introduced himself and asked what Roman was doing with his life.

 

“ _Nothing man, kind of feels like it's only just started._ ” Roman had admitted, shaking the pro-offered hand.

 

“ _Come grab some breakfast with me. I'm buyin'._ ” Dean had said firmly, hauling Roman down the street. It was entirely possible that Reigns just wanted someone to talk to, and that was how he ended up in a coffee shop with a guy he didn't know, spilling his guts over an egg sandwich and _terrible_ coffee.

 

Without further ado Dean had offered him his spare room, stating that he'd been in Roman's shoes once or twice. He had somehow managed to take his overly-violent upbringing and twist it to work to his advantage, and he was confident in the fact that Roman would be able to make his own situation better. While Reigns didn't share his optimism, he also didn't have many options.

 

A blow to the back of the head rattled him out of his memories, and Reigns realized belatedly as he dropped to his knees that he probably should have paid more attention to the fucking  _fight_ that was happening. Because a different man was in the square across from him now, a  _huge_ guy and Roman saw Sami laid out behind him. The crowd was chanting “ _Gallows!_ ” and Roman got the feeling that he may be in  _very_ deep shit. 

 

Fingers wound into his hair and dragged his head back, forcing him to stare up into the face of the man who had hit him. He had a shaved head and grinned like a fucking  _shark_ , with eyes so brown they looked black. “Hey there, big'un.” he ( _Anderson?_ ) said.

 

Roman's eyes widened.  _Oh boy_ . He did the only thing he could think of and gritted his teeth, baring them at Anderson. Kevin's arms suddenly wrapped around Anderson's midsection, hauling him back and up in the sloppiest suplex Roman had ever seen. Not that he was an expert. Then Reigns looked up, and up, and  _up_ at Gallows, who just stared back down at him silently.

 

“ _Get back!_ ” Dean yelled, skidding in front of Roman and spreading his arms wide. “Don't you fucking _dare_ Gallows, I'll knock your fucking teeth in!”

 

Roman's eyes narrowed as Gallows took a step forward. He stood, pressing a hand to Dean's shoulder and gently moving him to the side.  _You are the calm in the storm_ . “If you're gonna' try something.” Reigns said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “You'd best hurry your ass up.”

 

Anderson  _really_ seemed to enjoy hitting people while they weren't paying attention. Dean crumpled to the ground beside Roman, head lolling against the other man's shin. “ _Dean!_ ” Reigns felt that crushing weight in his chest again, the  _protect_ urge flaming up brightly. This time though he lashed out, cracking an ugly punch into Anderson's jaw. Anderson went to one knee and Gallows struck, hefting Roman over his shoulder like he was a small child. Reigns had a moment of  _fuck this is gonna' hurt_ before Zayn kicked Gallows' legs out from underneath him.

 

Roman hastily scrambled to his feet while Gallows was still floundering, putting some distance between himself and the larger man. Kevin was sprawled on the ground outside the fighter's square, looking distinctly worse for the wear. Zayn had clearly put the last of his strength into that desperate kick, collapsed in a heap close to Gallows. Dean appeared to have just come to his senses, legs crouched under him and eyes unfocused. Anderson was the only man up. His eyes met Reigns' and narrowed to slits.

 

“Fucker!” Anderson growled, the crowd's chanting almost drowning him out.

 

In response Roman slid his left hand down his right arm, starting at his clenched fist and moving in a quick back-and-forth motion. “Watch out, this time it's loaded!” he yelled, grinning mirthlessly when Anderson looked even more irritated. “You'd better take your big friend and  _get lost_ , before someone  _gets hurt!_ ”

 

“Could use a little work, but not bad for your first try!” Ambrose said loudly, making Roman snort. “Seriously though Anderson, I'll tear your hamstrings out with my teeth if you don't get the fuck away from us.” he continued just as loud, the deadly serious look on his face sending a shudder down Reigns' spine.

 

That wasn't his roommate who had said that. That was something  _else_ , the thing he caught glimpses of sometimes when Balor was a little too rough with his patch-ups and Dean snapped at his fingers...when Dean didn't get enough sleep and the bruises would bloom purple on his skin like he'd had a fight, even if he hadn't left the apartment. Roman knew he should have said something. He was just so scared of pushing him away, scared of losing one more person.

 

“ _I beat a guy into a bloody fucking **pulp**!_ ” Dean's terrified expression when he'd said that spoke volumes. He may have been 'making his overly-violent upbringing work for him', but at the end of the day whatever trauma he'd been put through still left a mark.

 

Gallows' boot to the base of Roman's spine put an end to his thoughts, and Reigns blacked out after his head slammed into the plywood beneath him.

 

Ambrose's voice next to his ear swam through the gray silence so loud, so fucking loud it hurt.

 

“ _Get up Reigns, **get up!**_ ”

 

_I want to, dammit Ambrose_ . 

 

Then Roman was vaguely aware of being stretched belly-down across someone's shoulders like he was in a torture rack. His lungs burned. Had he forgotten how to breathe?

 

_Am I paralyzed? No, no I can move my fingers. I'm okay. Just stuck_ . He knew he should probably be worried about how calm he was.

 

The sole of Anderson's boot connected with his chin and Roman was dislodged from his lofty perch on Gallows' shoulders, all three men crashing to the ground.  _I sure hope no one bet on me, they're gonna' lose something awful._ Roman mused, rolling slowly onto his stomach. Not to get up or anything, but just to make it harder for both of those clowns to kick him.

 

Ambrose's grunt of pain was enough to get Roman to raise his head. He instantly wished he hadn't. Gallows had one arm wrapped around Dean's throat and the other one beneath Dean's shoulder to cinch tightly about his torso. Ambrose clawed desperately at the arm cutting off his air while Anderson reached into the pocket of his pants.

 

_The knife the knife oh God--_

 

Reigns was half on his feet before he realized he'd moved, not entirely sure how he still had the steam to do so.  _Find your opening_ . Kevin staggered back up into the square, weaving badly and holding his fists up.  _You are the calm in the storm_ . Roman saw his opportunity in the distraction and took it, catching Anderson across the stomach with his splayed forearm and slamming him to the ground with a vicious tackle. They rolled over and over, Anderson finally getting him on his back with his knife inches from Roman's nose.

 

Reigns caught his wrist, barely avoiding getting stabbed in the face. Over Anderson's shoulder he saw Kevin  _tear_ Ambrose free of Gallows' grip, Dean whirling and bringing his knee up for a well-deserved nut shot to Gallows. Dean then threw himself on top of Anderson and Roman, fists pounding into Anderson's back and ribs without rhyme or reason. Anderson finally seemed to give up on trying to force the knife down into Roman's eye socket, instead laboriously sitting back on his knees and carving a quick, ugly divot into Roman's exposed hip. 

 

He probably meant to do more, meant to fuck him up like he'd fucked Ambrose up.

 

Roman couldn't help the noise he made.

 

Dean snatched Anderson's arm back hard enough for something to crack loudly, but the damage had been done. Kevin picked Ambrose and Anderson up bodily off of Reigns, tossing them aside onto Gallows like they weighed nothing. “ _Sami!_ ” he roared, “call in the big gun,  _enough is enough!_ ” 

 

Roman just laid there on his back, doing his best to not pass out. He kept his hand pressed over the wound, trying to ignore the sluggish trickle curving down his hip.

 

“Th' _hell_ is goin' on out here?!” 

 

_Oh shit, and I thought Gallows was tall_ . 

 

The newcomer with the long blond hair and thick New York accent  _towered_ over every man in the ring, cracking his knuckles menacingly. “An'erson an' Gallows. Shoulda' fuckin' known it'd be you two tiny-dicked pricks startin' trouble. I'm only gonna' say this to ya' once. Get the  _fuck_ outta' the square. You got a beef with someone? Fight 'em on ya' own time!”

 

“Or what? Your boss gonna' come out here and _make_ us leave?” Anderson still sneered, even with his right arm hanging limp at his side.

 

“Actually, yes.” That was a different voice. British accent. Calm.

 

Roman couldn't crane his neck back enough to see who was speaking, but from the way Anderson and Gallows quailed he imagined the guy must be a  _beast_ . He watched in confusion as Dean quickly got to his feet and started dusting himself off, running a hand through his hair. “Good enough for you, Mr. Regal?”

 

“Certainly. As usual Mr. Ambrose, you deliver in _spades_. Cassady, if you would please take out the trash.” A pair of expensive-looking shoes halted beside Roman's head, and Mr. Regal crouched to speak with him. His eyes were icy blue and piercing. Reigns swallowed hard. “Dreadfully sorry about all this. Are you one of ours?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

 

_I wouldn't really try to start a conversation with someone who's bleeding from the hip, but hey. To each their own._

 

“Signed in for the intermission, was Sami and I.” Roman awkwardly extended his left hand, right one still pressed to his wound. Ambrose was suddenly there, prying Roman's bloody palm away so he could cover the cut with a Telfa pad. “Roman Reigns, sir.”

 

Regal chuckled, shaking Roman's hand. “Manners! I like this one, Mr. Ambrose.”

 

“Back off Regal, it was a one time thing. A mistake.” Dean growled. “He's not yours.”

 

“So touchy, always so touchy.” Regal frowned at Dean, getting to his feet. Cassady had hauled Anderson and Gallows off somewhere, hopefully to get fucking tortured. Roman wasn't usually vindictive but his side fucking _hurt_ , his whole body was a mess of aches and pains and he kind of just wanted to cry a little bit. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a slightly longer than normal intermission. You know how hard it is to get the bloodstains off the floor. Then the last match of the night will continue.” Regal turned slightly, locking eyes with Ambrose. “As planned, correct Mr. Ambrose?”

 

Dean looked like he  _really_ wanted to say something back, finally ducking his head and busying himself with taping down the absorbent gauze. “Of course Mr. Regal. I understand.” he said through gritted teeth. “You're runnin' a business here.”

 

“That's the spirit!” Regal rumpled Ambrose's hair as he passed by and Roman saw the way Dean's jaw tensed.

 

“He expects you to fight again?” Roman whispered to Dean, who nodded jerkily. “After all that?! Jesus Christ, Dean--”

 

“I'm a decent draw, Reigns. Lotta' money on me. Folks'll riot if I don't at least put in an effort. I can't have anythin' else on my conscience.” Dean finally replied softly. “If I patch you up but you're still bleedin' through I'll throw the match, okay? It's my fault you got hurt anyhow. Told you not to talk to Sami, so of course you talk to Sami and he sweet-talks your giant ass into the square. This is why I wanted Finn and Rollins with me. Didn't want you hurt.”

 

“You knew this would happen.” Roman realized.

 

Dean wouldn't meet his eyes, helping him to his feet.

 

…

 

Ambrose won his last match by the skin of his teeth, not that he stuck around to celebrate. Roman was at least able to walk under his own power, and a good thing too because Dean looked trashed. The trek home made Reigns seriously regret not being lazy, wishing that he had drove there instead of walked.

 

When Roman finally passed through the door to the apartment he heaved a sigh of relief, looking forward to a hot shower and already hearing his bed calling his name.

 

Dean's fingers caught his arm.

 

“Ambrose, I just-” Dean cut off whatever he was going to say with a messy kiss, balling his fists into the hoodie covering Roman's shoulders and keeping the shocked man where he was. After a second Roman kissed back fiercely, nipping at the other man's lip and startling a groan out of Dean. “Are you okay?” Reigns panted against his mouth.

 

“Way fuckin' better than okay Reigns.” Ambrose said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “They're gone! They're fucking gone and I don't have to worry about them ever again, fuckin'... _thank you_.” he continued, cupping Roman's face. “And thanks for the kiss, big guy. Wasn't sure if I was oversteppin'.”

 

“You've never worried about that before.” Reigns pointed out wryly, making Dean chuckle.

 

“Yeah but I've never had a friend like _you_ at stake. Not a lot of people I know are willin' to go hard-body for me. That shit takes guts. Even if it was kinda' accidental.”

 

“I wasn't about to let him give you another matching set of scars, Ambrose. I'm fucking _built_ for defense, okay? Also, do you try to slip _all_ your friends tongue? Or am I special?”

 

Dean shook his head. “'Course you're fuckin' special Reigns, like I gotta' tell you that. Now c'mon, let's shower off and get patched up.”

 

Roman was a little surprised when Dean climbed into bed with him after they got cleaned up. Ambrose had a book with him and everything, like he was planning on reading before bed. Reigns was too tired to really question it, just laying on his back and closing his eyes. “We are going to need Advil like a  _motherfucker_ tomorrow.” he groaned. 

 

“I think we should just kinda' fuck around all day. Be lazy shits. If _you_ haven't earned it, _I_ sure as shit have.” Dean suggested, yawning widely. “Plus we gotta' talk about what happened.”

 

Roman waved a hand dismissively. “Tomorrow. Sleep.” he mumbled, already adrift. Looking back, all he could recall after that was the notion that maybe...Dean was stroking his hair...

 

…

 

Reigns awoke in the wee hours of the morning to Ambrose's fingers traipsing across his chest softly, curiously. “I know you're not mine.” Dean said quietly. “That's okay. I don't deserve anything as nice as you, Roman. I'm glad you let me kiss you. Been wanting to for a while. Man oh man, you are just the whole package, aren't you? Kind, fuckin' handsome and  _courageous_ to boot.” He sighed heavily. “Morning is gonna' be tough.”

 

“Why's that?” Roman murmured, catching Ambrose by the back of his neck and keeping him from pulling away. “Ah ah, my bed, my rules. When you're with me, Dean, you're safe. Why is the morning going to be tough?”

 

“Nothin' Reigns, nothing. Go back to bed, man. I'm just sleep babbling over here.” Dean's voice was weak. Roman's brow furrowed.

 

“Shh, c'mere.” He tugged Dean into him, laying his head on his chest. “You hear that Ambrose?”

 

“Hear what?” Dean asked, seeming confused. “Your breathin'?”

 

“Yeah. It's still happening. Because of you, man.” Roman said simply, petting Dean's hair and feeling the other man relax against him. “If you hadn't come along, I wouldn't be around. I can guarantee that.”

 

“Shit Reigns, I've never uh...nobody's ever said anythin' like _that_ to me before.”

 

“The morning is going to be fine, aside from how fucking sore I'm gonna' be. Don't worry so much, man.” Roman whispered, drifting off again.

 

A warm mouth on his own woke him up slowly, then soft little bites across his neck and collarbone. Roman groaned, stretching beneath whoever was over him. Surprisingly he didn't feel quite as six-feet-under as he'd anticipated he would.

 

“Tattoos on some people look fuckin' dumb, or just out of place. Big and gaudy and awkward. This though? On you? Sexy as fuck.” Ambrose rasped, fingers tracing the lines over Roman's pectoral. “I wish I could draw stuff like this. Hands aren't steady enough for patterns.”

 

“Get a ruler, lazyass. You think this shit is freehand?” Reigns teased, laughing when Dean proceeded to press his fingertips in hard enough to leave polka-dot echos on his patterned arm. “I'm glad you're conscious, Ambrose. Glad you're still in my bed, too.” he admitted, covering Dean's hand. “Glad we're okay.”

 

“Me too, man. How sore are you?” Dean asked worriedly.

 

Roman grunted. “Eh. Been worse. Feels like I took a helmet or two to the head. And the body.”

 

“Too sore to like...y'know?”

 

“ _Ambrose_.” Roman growled, tapping the bandage on his hip. “Your buddy took a chunk out of me, remember?”

 

“Yeah? How the hell is that going to stop me from sucking your dick?” Dean's crude question hung in the air between them for a tense moment. Dean glared the challenge at Roman, who stared back.

 

_Is this actually happening to me?_

 

“H-how the hell am I supposed to reciprocate with you all the way down there?!” Roman finally sputtered, Dean halfway to his destination before he could finish his sentence. “This is about you too Ambrose. Give and ta- _ohhh_ fuck... _”_ His protest died in a groan when Dean nipped at the waistband of his boxers. 

 

“What, you want me to jerk you instead or somethin' Reigns?” Dean smirked, eyes widening when Roman bit his lip.

 

“Yeah, get over here. Let's do that.” Roman tapped Dean's thigh, urging him to move. “That way I can jerk you off while you jerk me off. Smart.”

 

“You are _way_ too game for this shit Reigns. Alright.” Ambrose agreed, quickly getting out of his boxers and shoving Roman's down his legs. “Oh. Wow. Okay. I think you definitely have the easier job here, Ro.”

 

Roman shook his head, swallowing hard. “I haven't done anything for fucking  _years_ , Ambrose. I doubt that.” He slid a hand down Ambrose's stomach to his half-hard cock. Dean's thighs trembled for a second. “You alright?”

 

“Mm, yeah. This is just a fuckin' wet dream come to life for me, Reigns. Let me enjoy it.” Dean moaned when Roman took him into his hand. “ _Fuck_ just like that, shit.” His hair tickled Roman's shoulder as he hung his head for a second. “God _damn_ you do not waste time.” His hand closed warm and inviting around Roman's cock. 

 

“The hell should I waste time? We've been waiting on this for _ages_.” Roman growled, “Have a lot of time to make up for.”

 

Dean laughed breathlessly. “Shit, I guess so. Well you just keep letting me fuck your hand and I'll keep doing what I'm doing and we'll see how much we can make up.”

 

Roman leaned in to kiss him sloppily, Dean's free hand winding into his hair and keeping him there. “You were the first person to accept me for who I was. You didn't fucking judge me or look down on me. And that was when I was a fucking  _stranger_ . Dean I'm so fucking grateful.” Reigns gasped, pressing his forehead to Dean's. “I wasn't going to be alive much longer. I don't know what I would have done. But I  _meant_ what I said, man. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be around.”

 

A few tears streaked down Ambrose's cheeks. “Damn Ro, fucking Christ. Can't say this shit with your hand on my dick. Gets me fuckin' emotional.” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

 

Roman opened his hand momentarily, wrapping his fingers around both his cock and Dean's. Ambrose cried out at the change in friction, muttering  _oh shit oh shit_ under his breath as he fucked up into Roman's fist. Roman gritted his teeth at the delicious slide of Dean's cock against his own, fighting the urge to rock his own hips up. After a minute Dean laced his fingers through Roman's, helping the larger man stroke them in tandem. “Should have done this  _forever_ ago.” Dean groaned, grabbing Roman's thigh to steady himself. He gave the muscle an appreciative stroke, swatting the area afterwards with a satisfied sigh. “Fuckin'  _perfect_ .”

 

Roman caught Dean by the scruff of his neck, dragging him in to touch foreheads again. “Want to watch you get off.” he managed to say, watching Dean's eyes focus on his mouth.

 

“God you are fuckin' _dangerous_ when you're like this. I'd do whatever you asked.” Dean panted. “Whatever the fuck you _want_ , man, as long as you don't stop moving your hand.”

 

“You got it.” Roman smiled, feeling his own release close in. It had been so fucking _long_ since he'd been able to share this with anyone. He'd almost forgotten how hot it was, how tender and touching and absolutely _filthy_ it could be to get your partner off while they got you off. “You going to come, huh? Come all over my stomach, get me _dirty_ Ambrose. I'm so close Dean, c'mon.” he begged, moaning when Dean whimpered and humped their joined hands with a few quick snaps of his hips. 

 

The best sight of Roman's life was officially Dean Ambrose coming apart beside him, spilling over their fingers and his belly with a low cry. It was easily enough to tip Roman over his own edge and he came hard, groaning and continuing to rub his cock against Ambrose's until he was spent.

 

Dean's whole body shivered and he weakly raised his hand to his mouth, lapping lazily at his fingers. Reigns was shocked at how eagerly his body reacted, his cock perking up weakly.  _Down boy!_ “Should I...?” he trailed off, quirking an eyebrow at Dean and lifting his own hand. 

 

“It'd only be the best fuckin' thing I've seen so far.” Dean said, making a helpless sound in his throat when Roman obligingly licked his own fingers clean. He bumped his head into Roman's shoulder, pushing him over onto his back and starting an exploration down his torso with his tongue.

 

Roman ran his hands through Dean's hair, sighing in contentment. “ _You're_ the best thing that's ever happened to me, Ambrose. I hope you know that.”

 

Dean looked up at him wide-eyed. “Yeah, you  _really_ gotta' stop sayin' stuff like that. Gonna' give me a heart attack. But not before I kick the shit outta' all the other idiots you had to go through to get to me.”

 

Roman laughed, tugging Dean up his body to rest his head on his chest again. “The best thing ever. Even if you get me mixed up in your fights.”

 

“You kicked _ass_ though! And that thing you did with your fist, the shotgun cock thing? _Awesome_. I wish I'd thought of that.” Ambrose complained, his eyes closing as Reigns continued to run his fingers through his unruly mop of hair. “That tackle thing was pretty boss too, man. You may be cut out for my line of work after all. Maybe you could help Big Cass, mop up the unruly fucks, y'know, because you're a badass and stuff.”

 

“Shh,” Roman murmured soothingly, “we have the whole day, Ambrose. We're going to be lazy fucks, not unruly ones, remember?”

 

“Lazy fucks...” Dean echoed, snuggling closer into Roman's chest.

 


End file.
